Mindgames - Chapter 2
by FenrisWolf
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Author's Notes - see part one
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Much later, as they cuddled on the bed, Hermione's eyes fell on the offending pillow. "Harry, what are we going to do about…that?" she asked, waving a hand in its direction. The packet sat on the edge of the desk, its malevolence contained within the protective charm Harry had placed upon it.
Harry frowned. That had been worrying him, too; whoever had planted the curse obviously had no qualms about using Dark magic to achieve their ends, and less concern for who got hurt in the process. That sort of curse could produce irreversible brain damage, even madness, if left too long. What was worse, it would only grow more potent with time.
"First, we need to report it to Professor Dumbledore," he said firmly, ignoring it as she stiffened in his arms. "Hermione, there's a chance that damned thing left something behind. The professor is an expert at Legilimancy, if anyone can spot the aftereffects of a mind control curse, it'll be him." He kissed the top of her head, running his hand across her shoulder. "I know you don't want him rummaging through your thoughts, but better Dumbledore than some stranger at St, Mungo's."
"Can't you do it, Harry?" she asked. "I'd rather it was you; I wouldn't feel so bad about having you look through my mind."
"No, I can't," he replied. "For one thing, I'm not good enough; I could easily miss something that would come back to haunt you. For another, even if I spotted a problem, I don't have the first idea about how to go about correcting one. No, it will have to be the professor."
"All right, Harry," Hermione agreed reluctantly. At least it wouldn't be Snape looking through her mind, she thought and shuddered.
Harry continued with his own train of thought. "After that, we need to figure out how it was planted in there, and more importantly, who's responsible. Do you remember when you started feeling the effects of the curse?"
Hermione concentrated, trying to sort out when her normal nervousness over their futures started to change into something darker. "W-e-l-l, I guess the first time was around three weeks ago. I remember waking up out of a nightmare feeling wretched, and it just got worse after that." She smiled and hugged him close as the echoes of the curse tried to reassert themselves; apparently he was right about having the professor examine her.
"Was the pillow ever out of your sight? Did you take it with you anywhere?" Harry asked, trying to figure out the method used to infiltrate her possessions.
"I did have it with me the night I stayed in the seventh year girls' dorm for their slumber party…" She grimaced at the memory. The other girls of her year had declared the need for some 'traditional female bonding', and had invited the fifth and sixth year girls as well. They had spent the night gossiping, doing beauty charms on each other, and giggling over the potential boyfriends in the different houses. The whole thing had given her a migraine, but she'd gone along for the sake of fellowship. Besides, she rarely did 'girly' things, and the idea had seemed fun at the time. "Harry, you can't think one of them--!"
He shrugged. "Someone had to have put it there, Hermione; if that's the only time it was out of your room, it was either then, or someone managed to break in here to do it." They both knew form experience just how tight the security was on the dorm rooms of the students. An intruder might make it into the common room of one of the houses, but each succeeding floor had more safeguards. No one not of their house, with perhaps the exception of the headmaster, should be able to get into Hermione's room without her permission.
Hermione bit her lip. "I just have a hard time believing any of them would do something like that. We've all been getting along so well this year."
Harry grimaced. It was true that most of the girls really were Hermione's friends; it had taken a while for them to get past her shyness around them, but once they all realized that they shared a common enemy (clueless boyfriends), they'd begun to get along famously.
There was one, however, that Harry knew only pretended to be friends with Hermione. He knew it because the girl in question had told him in no uncertain terms that he was wasting himself on someone who wasn't worthy of him, and that she had far more to offer him than Hermione ever would. She'd then tried to show Harry just exactly what she had to offer him, and it was only by dint of a combination of a couple of DADA charms and his Seeker reflexes that Harry managed to avoid finding out just what she was talking about. The trouble was, he knew damned well that the girl in question didn't have the talent or the resources to produce the offending packet of ill intent that was resting quiescent under a White Light Binding, which meant she had to have one or more accomplices.
Harry sighed. He didn't like the idea one little bit, but he could think of only one way to flush out the culprits. He turned to his girlfriend and braced himself for an argument; somehow he had the feeling she would like it even less than he did…
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Two days later the Great Hall was buzzing with gossip at breakfast. Everyone was talking about the breaking up of the Golden Couple. Harry and Hermione had gotten into a huge fight outside the library, complete with name-calling, book slamming, and concluding with the sound of Hermione's hand striking Harry's cheek like the final round of a game of Exploding Snap. She'd run crying for the Gryffindor Tower, and he'd been seen shooting around the Quidditch pitch like a madman. Now everyone was holding their breath to see if the rumors were true, though for many different reasons. Their friends were heartsick at the thought that two people they felt had earned their happiness were losing it, the romantics were horrified at seeing one of the great love stories of the school come unraveled, the cynics were pleased to see their cynicism justified, the gossipmongers were circling, smelling blood in the water, and those that hated or were jealous of them were gleeful at the thought of anything happening to bring suffering to the pair that made them seem small by comparison.
And amidst all these, there was one more group, an unlikely alliance of two people who had conspired to bring these events about. They, too, were watching, hopeful that their efforts had finally paid off.
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Harry approached the Hall with a combination of resolve and trepidation. Resolve because he was determined to flush out whoever had attacked his girlfriend, and trepidation because the reactions of some of his housemates were not going to be pleasant, and one in particular ran the risk of being downright dangerous.
"You sonofabitch!" Speak of the devil…
Harry turned and faced the red face and flaming red hair of his other best friend. This was the part of the plan Hermione had objected to the most, but Harry had been adamant; if they were going to convince the saboteurs that their plot was working, Ron's response had to be natural. And since their friend couldn't act his way out of a paper bag, if they wanted his response to be realistic, they couldn't tell him the truth, at least not at first.
Harry just hoped he didn't get a realistic broken jaw for his troubles.
He held up his hands as Ron stormed up to him. "This isn't any of your business, Ron," he cautioned. "This is between Hermione and me."
The youngest of the Weasley boys was having none of it. "Didn't I warn you, Harry? Didn't I tell you I'd make you pay if you hurt her? She's up in her room, crying her eyes out, because you dumped her!"
"I didn't dump her, Ron, we just weren't getting along. It wasn't working. We both thought we needed a beak to sort things out."
Ron's jaw jutted forward truculently. "So what was the fight in front of the library about, then? If you two are being so 'mature' about this," he said, making it sound like a curse word, "why are you down here while she's upstairs miserable. Ginny spent half the night up with her!"
Harry shrugged, the role he was playing tasting like ashes in his mouth. "She might not have been as happy about the idea, but she agreed it was for the best. Besides, what do you care? Aren't you and Luna getting along alright together?"
"What I feel for Luna has nothing to do with how I feel about Hermione! She's my best friend, one of two I thought I had!"
Harry really hated himself for what he said next. Crossing his arms, he raised one eyebrow in a manner deliberately reminiscent of a certain blonde-haired Slytherin. "What's the matter, Weasley? Still upset that Hermione never let you have a crack at her?"
With a roar Ron lunged at him, swinging a fist wildly at his best friend's face. Harry braced himself and let the blow land, even though he knew he'd pay for it later. The meaty sound of Ron's fist impacting on Harry's mouth was audible throughout the hall, and Ron gaped in astonishment as his friend went sprawling. In six years of roughhousing he'd never managed to connect with Harry when he was expecting it, a side benefit of the same reflexes that made him a deadly Seeker. Seeing his friend sprawled on the flagstones with a bloody mouth seemed to shock him out of his rage.
"Mr. Weasley!" a familiar voice shouted as Professor McGonagall crossed the floor. "Brawling in the halls is not permitted under any circumstances, nor is an assault on your housemate and friend! Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, and a week's detention with Mr. Filch."
"But Professor, he-" Ron protested.
"No excuses, Mr. Weasley. Now, into breakfast with you." She turned her gaze to Harry, and he cringed at the disapproval in her glance. "As for you, Mr. Potter, I am disappointed that you allowed this situation to develop. I…thought better of you." With that she strode away, leaving Harry feel like a complete prat.
"Don't worry, they don't understand," a friendly voice soothed as the person he'd half-expected pressed a square of cloth against his bleeding lip. "Sometimes these things just happen."
Harry struggled to his feet, aided by the person beside him, and then turned to look at his helper with a smile that made him wince. "Yeah, you're right, they do. Maybe I should've listened to you before."
The girl's face brightened considerably. "Do you mean that, Harry?"
"Well, I've got to think a lot of things through, first; I've got a lot going on right now. I think I need to talk to Hermione again, sort this all out…you understand, right?"
"Of course, Harry, you don't want to rush things…but you won't wait too long, will you? There are only a few weeks of school left."
"No, I won't take too long. A couple of good night's sleep should clear my head. I'll be talking to you soon, I promise." He turned to go, and then paused. "Oh, here's your handkerchief; sorry about the stains. Ask the house-elves, they're really amazing with things like that."
"I will, Harry, and don't worry about it. I was just glad to help. Talk to you soon, okay?"
"All right. See you, Lavendar."
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Part three - we meet the co-conspirator, and Harry gets some help in acquiring the evidence they need.